May. 29th, 2013

schmetterling: (Schuldig)
He's almost conscious, convulsing and fighting instinctively against a choking sensation and invasion of his nose and throat. A breathing tube is removed though all he knows as he wakes into panic is that too many hands and straps are holding him down and there's a lot of fuss around his head - again? Kicking against the catheter team is thwarted by the tie-downs around bony knees and ankles. His veins burn, he struggles to roll away; it's futile, he's been efficiently immobilized and restrained, physically and chemically.
He becomes aware of himself with no sense of the time or day, and no memory of several fits of semi-consciousness. His inability to lift a hand to his head or curl up against his discomfort comes as an unpleasant and familiar sensation, almost self-explanatory. Tied down? He hadn't ignored a summons, had he? Disobeyed an order to appear? Rejected an assignment? His mind skips through a number of logical reasons he might have been tranqed and tanked while the rest of him squirms, stretches, pulls, tests, HATES the restraint. Beeping monitors at the bedside broadcast and magnify his failure to maintain calm by analyzing the situation and understanding his options and opportunities - FUCK YOU, CRAWFORD, WHEREVER YOU ARE. The machines reach a crescendo and reward his "high score" with a tranquilizer dump into the IV. He fades back with a whining complaint against the mouth guard, and snorts through his nose - good one, assholes.
The next time he surfaces he's watching a special forces nurse - is that a cattle prod at his hip - change fluid bags. The nurse notices his eyes tracking and nods, acknowledging him with a wry "Good morning, sunshine," which causes him to lift a brow and grunt against the mouthguard in reply. Might as well be.. social. "I suppose you're wondering why we've brought you here today," the nurse responds, leaning in and smiling.
Schu stills and the monitors slow, betraying everything - he's going to have to yank them down or kick them over later, fucking machines.
The nurse grins suddenly, shrugging and stepping back as he thumbs open the fresh IV drip. "I have no idea, whatever, but you hang in there, red."
Schu can feel his face slack and he tries, tries so hard to swear against the mouthguard as lips numb; where the fuck does Kritiker get these assholes? What the fuck kind of nurse bastard rotten jackass..
He forgets to be grateful that he's alive, but he smiles as he sleeps.

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Schuldig

March 2014

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